The Cleansing

I slowly undress, as I take each article of clothing off, a bit is revealed of my changed self. I glance in the mirror but don't linger. I try not to look at the change that has occurred. My bald head, my chemo port, the surgical scar left behind by my hysterectomy, the eyebrows and eye lashes missing, the dry skin that falls like snow with each article removed, the sadness in the reflection looking back at me.

I carefully step over the threshold of the tub and slowly tilt into the steamy and comforting water. I feel the water slide over my baldness as tears mix with the soothing wash. My shower time is my time to cleanse my soul as well as my body. As I cry, I fill my cloth with the sweet smell of my specially chosen body wash that my daughter Lyndsay helped choose for me. Vanilla Verbena, Aromatherapy Stress Relief. I pay close attention to the sweet aroma, to the lather as it covers me. I scrub hard, trying to remove the dead skin left behind by chemo and the winter dryness. I wash every inch, every crook and cranny of my body. I appreciate this moment. My complete cleansing, the opportunity to embrace myself in this simple act of bathing. I feel the curves of my body, I embrace the freckles on my legs which are the result of youth spent days in the sun, the shape of my feet, the contour of my shoulders. I cry and think about my body as it will disintegrate to nothing after my last breath is taken. I pay close attention as my hands glide over every touchable part. I learn to love myself again. I yearn for many more moments of such simplicity. And,  I cry as my tears mix with the running cleansing stream and circle down the drain along with my heart, my hope, my memories, my despair.

This act of cleansing. Much like a ritual. Much like a prayer. Much like a song or poetry, a buried treasure revealed haphazardly, a quiet morning walk on the beach in the rain. I am once again renewed.